


heart is golden, hands are cold

by corset



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Burn, eventual OT3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corset/pseuds/corset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every generation there is a chosen one. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer, and her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.</p><p>**NOTE: I really appreciate all of the lovely feedback I've gotten on this story, I do. I had big plans to finish it, even turn it into a multi-fic series - but unfortunately, my muse for Miraculous Ladybug fic has been gone for a very long time, and I don't know if it will be back any time soon. I might pick this back up ages from now, but as it currently stands, I won't be finishing this fic. I'm sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Is this one going to come out anytime soon, Tikki?” Marinette asks, looking up towards the light-polluted sky. It's late, so late that she doesn't want to think about it – she's still got an uncompleted math assignment on her desk, and she hasn't been able to get a decent night's sleep for about a week now. Not only is it late; but she's been sitting on (then laying against, then pacing around, and then sitting on again) the very same grave since _sundown_ , just waiting for this new vampire to crawl up out of their grave.

“Patience, Marinette.” Her watcher warns with a small, yet sad, smile. She's tired, too, but the safety of Paris comes much before their own needs. She knew this when she chose to become a watcher; Marinette knew this when she was chosen. But that's the difference, isn't it? She made a choice, but Marinette was thrown into these duties without an option to back out.

Tikki has tried to make it easier on her slayer, but it's difficult. She distantly remembers what it's like to be a teenager, and she knows it's rough enough without the literal weight of the world on one's shoulders. Still, she likes to imagine that she is a better option than so many of the other watchers on the council – old, white men who have lost any idea of what it is like to be young; old, white men who have never had any idea of what it is like to face any of the challenges that a budding teenager would.

Tikki is a small woman, standing at about 4”5. Her dark brown hair is braided back in cornrows that reach down to her shoulders; blue eyes stand out behind large circular glasses, against freckled brown skin. She is a small woman, but she likes it that way – it makes it easier for her to fade into the background, be unnoticed (an ample skill for a watcher). She is a small woman, but full of love, affection and dedication. 

“I know, Tikki, I know.” Marinette sighs, hopping off the grave and laying on the grass in frustration. It's already bad enough that she has to stake this vampire, but they're so _late_ in appearing. Don't they know she has things to do? Homework to be finished! A house to sneak back into! A few hours of sleep to catch! School to attend!

But that isn't really what bothers her. No, it's all the _thinking_ that comes with waiting.

Every time she turns a vampire to dust, she can't help but remember that they used to be a person. It's useless to humanize them, she knows it, but Tikki's words when they first met always echo in her head: _They no longer have a soul, Marinette. They're twisted – and unfortunately, already dead. There's nothing we can do to save them, but the very least we can do is protect more of Paris._

There's nothing she can do, but it doesn't change her deep-rooted desire to _do_ something. She is young woman of action, of ideals and solutions. Killing doesn't seem like much of a solution to her, but she knows Tikki's correct.

And even if she could give folks their souls back, it might be worse – they'd still be dead, and they'd see the monsters they've become. They'd never get to see the sunlight again, they'd be filled with an insatiable hunger for blood that they can never fill. Wouldn't that be more terrible than a swift death? She tells herself this to make herself feel better, but she's not sure she believes it.

“Hey, Tikki? I-” She starts, knowing she shouldn't keep these feelings bottled up. She's well aware Tikki will tell her the same thing as always, give her a reassuring hug and reminder that she's basically the unseen hero of Paris. It's repetitive, but it's reassuring. Marinette is, at the very least, glad that she has Tikki out of this whole situation. Tikki, like Alya, is the best friend she doesn't deserve.

Her statement is interrupted by a small tremor from the grave she's lying next to – a telltale sign that the newborn vampire is about to rise. She hops up and readies herself with her stake, pummeling it into the demon's chest as soon it's visible.

They turn into dust, and she sighs. It's a mixture of relief and remorse. Another vampire slayed, another soul lost far too early on. 

She leans down in front of the grave, looking for their name and year of birth. She does this for every vampire slayed in the graveyard – she can't save their bodies or souls, but she can do her part to remember them. Their families will mourn their deaths, but she mourns that she cannot save them.

“They were sixteen,” She says, trying not to shake with sadness. That's only a year older than she is. She turns to her watcher, eyes brimmed with tears. “That's the youngest one yet. What kind of a monster turns _kids _into demons, Tikki? What kind of a monster _does that_?”__

__Tikki doesn't respond with words, she simply walks up next to Marinette – who has slumped next to the tombstone – and pulls her in for a hug. Marinette just cries. They stay like that for an eternity until Marinette dozes off, and Tikki wakes hers up._ _

__“You have to go home, Marinette. Your parents will worry if you're not there in the morning.”_ _

__The puffy and red-eyed slayer nods, and drags herself up off of the ground. She can still catch a few hours of sleep in her bed before trudging off to school. Tikki walks silently with her._ _

__Tikki wonders what sort of monster chooses kids to fight these battles._ _


	2. Chapter 2

Marinette doesn't fall sleep. She tries – _oh_ how she tries! She tosses and turns, hoping she isn't making so much noise that her parents hear, she tries staring up at nothing until she gets bored enough to shut her eyes, she tries curling up into a little ball under the blankets. 

She is exhausted – physically, emotionally – yet her mind just _won't stop._ She tries everything she can to forget about the creatures that thrive in the darkness, just long enough to catch some shut-eye. Every time she starts to doze away, she just remembers that _the vampire I killed tonight was only sixteen._

Why do bad things happen to young people? It isn't fair.

The clock blares that it's 4:07am by the time she manages to drift away – a little less than 2 hours until she has to be up – but sleep is no kinder on her mind. 

_A graveyard, fighting, a terrible, old creature she's never seen before, so many vampires, screams – **her** screams, pain. So, so much pain to the point where she can't see anything anymore. Suddenly, a sense of calm. Followed by a BEEP, BEEP, BEEP._ She wakes up with a start, and realizes she's trembling.

She's not the sort of person who has a lot of dreams in her life – and the few she does have, she can hardly remember. It's the first nightmare she's ever had, but yet it feels like so much more, like something real. Was it a memory of a past slayer? Tikki mentioned something about that before. _Tikki_ , she thinks. _I have to talk to Tikki._

She is exhausted when she drags herself out of bed and down to her parents bakery.

“Marinette? You're going to be l-” Her mother begins, turning towards her daughter. She stops when she actually _sees_ Marinette. She looks terrible – paler than normal, which accentuates the dark circles that have formed under her eyes. “Honey, is everything okay?”

“I'm fine, mama. Just had a really bad dream.”

Sabine pulls her daughter in for a brief hug, which Marinette gladly returns. 

“Maybe you should take the day off of school?”

“Don't be silly, mama! I'll be fine, really!” Marinette insists. She loves the idea of a day off; but she really, really needs to see Tikki. (Her watcher – also a licensed nurse – had taken up the open school nurse position a month ago so that they could see each other more easily. Marinette can tell that Tikki has a _gift_ for healing others. She's never experienced it herself, her super-human healing abilities foregoing the need for much medical attention.)

Before Sabine can protest further, Marinette grabs a pastry from the shop and runs out the door. She's glad that her school is so closeby – she manages to settle into her seat a minute before class starts, a minute before the teacher closes the door.

Alya gives her a look, filled with surprise and so much worry. She's used to Marinette being _exactly_ on time, rushing in moments before she'd be late. What she's not used to is the way Marinette looks _exhausted_. Not just tired, not just drowsy, but an entirely new level of exhausted. 

She's perceptive – she knows something has been bothering Marinette for months now. It's in the way she fakes some of her trademark peppy smiles, the bounce in her step that just disappeared one day, the look of concern on her face when she thinks nobody's looking. As an up-an-coming journalist, it's Alya's job to notice these changes in people. As a best friend, it's her job to worry.

Alya knows Marinette (sometimes she likes to think she knows Marinette better than Marinette knows Marinette), and she's been hoping that one of these days, her best friend would just tell her what's happening in her life. A hope, she's begun to realize, is in vain. She needs answers, and she needs them _fast_. Whatever Marinette's going through, she doesn't want her to go through it alone. Because she loves her – Alya isn't quite sure in which sense of the word these days – but more importantly, because that's what best friends are for.

She strikes at lunchtime.

“I think I'm going to go to the nurse.” Marinette states as soon as the lunch period begins. Alya hesitates to stop her – she's glad that Marinette knows to care of herself, but Alya wants answers and she wants them _fast_.

“Yes, you should,” Alya agrees, but puts her hands on Marinette's shoulders and stares her down. “But fiiirst, you're going to tell me what's up with you. You haven't been yourself lately and I'm concerned. You look like crap – don't be mad at, it's my duty as your friend to tell you – and I don't even think you've stared at Adrien _once_ today in class. Who are you and what you have done with the Marinette I know and love?”

“I-I just, I realized lately. There's more important things in life than crushes, you know?” She replies, looking at her feet. She hates this, she hates lying to Alya – the person she cares most about in the world after her parents. Her statement isn't exactly a lie – being a slayer certainly takes precedence over her crush on a certain model (and other crushes she's deteremiend to nip in the bud), but she can't just tell Alya about her nocturnal life.

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“Bullshit, Marinette. Bull. Shit. I've known you for years, I can tell when you're lying.”

Marinette lets out a heavy sigh, smiling sadly.“There's no getting anything past you, is there?”

“Nope! Now tell me what's wrong.”

“I c-can't! But I want to! I do! I don't want to run around and lie to you and for you to hate me for it and stop being my best friend after all this time, I don't want to hide anything from you! But I just can't tell you about this!”

“Whoa, slow down there, girl!” Alya says, pulling her bestie in for a tight hug. She doesn't need her journalistic intuition to tell her that her Marinette has clearly been stressing out about this for ages. “First of all, whatever it is, I'm not going to hate you for it, promise. Second of all, why can't you tell me?”

“It's just...” Marinette pauses, thinking of the right words.“It's better that way, okay? But don't worry, I'm not going through this alone, I have Tikki.”

“Tikki? Isn't that the new nurse?”

Marinette clasps her hands to her mouth – she hadn't meant to mention Tikki's name. No going back now. “Y-yeah.” She responds.

“You're on a first-name basis with the school _nurse_ and you're asking me not to worry?”

Marinette nods.

Alya sighs. “Girl, we have some serious talking to do. But first here's what's going to happen. You're going to go to the nurse like you planned and lay down for the rest of lunch. If you're still feeling any bit as tired as you look now, you're going to go home. No buts! And then if you're up for it, we're going to Alix's house-party tonight to give you a mental boost. And at some point we're going to talk about whatever it is that's bothering you because this isn't over. Got it?”

“Bu-”

“I said no buts. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good.”


	3. Chapter 3

Marinette adds Alya's concern to her list of things to worry about it, along with nightmares and kids being turned into vamps. The reason she keeps being a slayer a carefully guarded secret isn't just because it seems to be an unwritten duty, but because she wants to prevent anyone, especially the people she cares about, from fretting. Not just fretting over her safety, but over the fact that vampires, demons, the creepy-crawlies that lurk in the dark are real.

It's tough enough knowing they exist when she's in a position to do something about it, but she cannot imagine what she would do if she knew she couldn't protect her loved ones or herself. 

_Should I just tell Alya?_ is an ever-burning question in the back of Marinette's mind – she knows the other can stand her own, and is strong enough to cope with the dark side of the world; but would purpose would telling her have?

She pushes the concerns further into the recesses of her mind; it's important, but not the most important right now. _Prioritize_ , she reminds herself. She has a very scary dream to decipher, hopefully with Tikki's help.

Marinette finds her way through the halls and into the nurse's office. She runs in and glances around to make sure there is nobody else around.

“Tikki!” She shouts. “I need to talk to you!”

“Hey, Marinette! Is this about last night?” Tikki asks, a look of concern instantly spreading across her face. The night before had been rough on her, as a watcher, but she imagines it was much worse for Marinette. She can tell by the dark rings under the other's eyes.

As a friend, she wants to scoop Marinette up, bundle her in some blankets, and tell her that vampires are just a nightmare that she'll never have to worry about again. As a watcher, this is nothing she can do. (The watcher's council has already told her too many times that she's _too close_ to Marinette, that watcher and slayer should not be so close. A fear of getting fired looms over her head, but she has a feeling she's safe for now.)

“No! Well, yes. Sort of?” Marinette says, making wild hand gestures before taking a breath. “It's not about... _that_ but it is about something that happened last night. I... I had a really bad nightmare. It felt so _real_ , Tikki.”

“Oh, Marinette.” Tikki frowns, putting a hand on her slayer's arm to comfort her. Her concern worsens – slayers having realistic dreams, _especially_ nightmares has never been a good sign. “Tell me what happened.”

“Well, I was in a graveyard, and there were lots of, you know, as well as this really old demonic looking guy. I think maybe I... died? I was screaming, and I was hurt, and then I wasn't. I woke up after that.”

Marinette frowns after recounting the dream, brows furrowing in frustration. Even with her vague descriptions, it's difficult for her talk about it.

Tikki stays silent, her eyes widening a bit as she turns a shade lighter.

“What is it?'

“Marinette, please sit down,” Tikki replies, waiting for Marinette to listen before continuing. Once the slayer is seated, she looks her in the eyes with the most serious expression Marinette has ever seen. It sends a chill down her spine. “One of the many gifts of a slayer is the ability to have prophetic dreams. I think you've just had your first.”

“So my nightmare... was the future?”

“It's very likely.”

“Tikki?” She begins, glancing at her watcher with a fierceness she reserves for important moments like slaying a vampire or standing up for herself and/or others against Chloe. “Am I going to die?”

“We all pass away someday, Marinette.”

“You know that's not what I meant.”

“There are... multiple paths to future. Do you know how many prophecies, conflicting prophecies, there have been in the history of the world?” Tikki says with a bit of a soft sigh. It's not a lie – but she does have a sinking feeling that Marinette's prophecy is more likely to come true than not. She does not know if there's ever been a record of a slayer's prophetic dreams _not_ coming true.

“So... I might die?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Silence. There's nothing but trudging, uncomfortable silence between them for a while.

“Marinette?” 

“Yes?”

“You should go home and rest.”

She does.


	4. Chapter 4

Sabine is grateful when Marinette comes home and says she wants to skip the rest of the day. As a mother, she feels she shouldn't have let her daughter even leave that morning. Even though she doesn't know the full details of Marinette's life – not that she expects to, she was not entirely forthcoming with her parents during her own youth – she knows what she sees. What she sees is enough for her to know that Marinette needs a day off from responsibilities. 

She brings Marinette a cup of tea and an offer of “If you need to dear, I'm here to talk.” 

Marinette takes the warm drink with a thank you and a smile, before gulping it down and ushering her mom away so she can take a nap.

At school, Alya breathes a sigh of relief when she gets a text from Marinette, and then photographic proof (in the form of a selfie) that she's at home, in her bed, resting. She almost expected to find Marinette back in class after lunch. She's happy that it's otherwise – the last time she's seen anyone so tired was the day after her mother had brought her newest sibling home from the hospital and still tried to wrangle the rest of her family into bed. 

Alya knows anything that could cause her usually bubbly and energetic friend to be an exhausted mess cannot be good. 

About 15 minutes after the text, she starts to cough. It's not a real cough, just a perfectly orchestrated fake cough. A useful skill she learned long ago – it comes in handy, especially in times like this. 

“Alya? Do you want to go to the nurse? That cough sounds pretty bad.”

“Yes, thank you!”

She rushes out of the classroom – still coughing – until she's far enough down the hall to stop. She makes her way to the nurse's office. The room is empty, except for her and the nurse – there's not even a student faking sick to skip a class on one of the cots. Thank god. She hadn't thought of a solid plan if there were other kids around. Probably ignore them, but she thinks this is a conversation best held alone.

“Hi!” Tikki chirps, quickly covering up the papers about prophecies she was, until a moment ago, reading on her desk. “What brings you to my office? Ms...?”

“It's Alya. And I need to talk to you.” Alya says firmly. She probably shouldn't be talking like this to someone who qualifies as an authority figure, but she's too concerned about Marinette to care.

“Unless you're sick or hurt, I don't know how I can help you...” 

“I think you can.”

“Oh?”

“ _Something_ is going on with my best and dearest friend, and I know you know what it is. She won't tell me a thing. So, I need you to tell me instead.”

“I can't tell you anything about another student.” Tikki says calmly, despite being quite flabbergasted. She has no idea to do with the feisty girl in front of her. She's intrigued, yes, but she's in no position to talk about anyone else – and she's not entirely sure which student Alya is referring to.

“I don't _care_ ,” Alya says, trying to keep her voice level and calm. “I am _concerned_ , and I _need_ you to tell me if Marinette's okay. At least let me know if she's sick! She looks _awful_ all the time, and won't tell me why.”

 _Disease_ had been Alya's first (and only) conclusion. Marinette's a shell of her former self, exhausted all the time, and off in another world; Marinette _looks_ sickly, especially today; Marinette is on a first-name basis with the nurse. What other logical connection could she make? She's not sure if it's Marinette who's sick, or if she's stressed out over someone else being sick (like one of her parents), but she's sure that illness is involved somehow.

 _Oh._ Tikki struggles for a moment, looking about worriedly. No watcher has ever had to work with concerned friends before – but then again, very few slayers insisted on continuing their everyday lives. (Then again, most slayers came from families who knew of their potential and had been trained. Then again, most slayers weren't Marinette.) “I can promise you that Marinette's not sick.”

“And?” Alya asks, quirking an eyebrow. She's glad – so _glad_ to hear that. She has a knack for knowing when people are lying, not just with Marinette, and she trusts what Tikki says. But she can tell there's more, so much more that she doesn't know. She won't be satisfied until she finds out.

“That it. I can't tell you anything else.”

“Why not?”

“It's not my place to tell.”

Alya resigns with a sigh – that's commendable, it is. She respects that attitude, even though it is absolutely frustrating to reach a dead end for someone like her. But she knows she's not getting any answers anytime soon, and not from Tikki. She swipes a cough drop from the desk and heads back to class.


	5. Chapter 5

Marinette's nap does not bring her any peace. Instead, she has the same nightmare – it shakes her, and she wakes with a start to find that school ended only a few hours ago. Drowsily, she reaches for her phone to see if anyone has contacted her. She assumes Alya must have – and she assumes correctly, eyeing several unread texts.

**> Mariiiiiiinette! Are you feeling better?**

**> Girl, it's been hours since school ended. You better be asleep or something. **

**> Otherwise you have NO excuse for ignoring me like this!**

**> Also, don't forget about your promise to come to Alix's party if you're up for it.**

She smiles at the messages, it's always heartwarming to see how much Alya cares about her. She can't imagine her life without someone so wonderful in it – truly, she's blessed to know somebody so friendly, headstrong, and caring.

She eyes the last message, wearily remembering her promise to Alya earlier in the day. She feels more energetic, more refreshed than earlier – although not by much, thanks to her newfound inability to sleep properly. Are these dreams going to plague her each and every night? Or will they stop soon? She hopes it's the latter. How is she supposed to keep up her slayer life, let alone her normal life, if she can't even sleep?

Due to it all, a party is the last thing she feels up to – although her friends and classmates mean the world to her, she doesn't want to continue with the front of pretending to be okay.

Yet, the party _does_ strike her as a good idea – if there's a vampire going around and turning teenagers, a party is the perfect place for them look for prey. She shudders at the thought of some demon thinking of her friends as nothing more than _prey_. Filled with a burst of ferocity, she decides that it's her duty to go.

Someone needs to protect the city, and if she doesn't – nobody else will.

She grabs her phone, ready to reply to Alya's messages.

**> Sorry! I was actually asleep. But I'm up now.**

**> Feeling better. So when's the party?**

It takes Alya less than a minute to respond. Marinette giggles to herself – she's pretty sure there's nobody in the vast universe as attached to their phone as Alya.

**> Soon!**

**> I'm coming over RIGHT NOW to hang out before we go. So get ready.**

Marinette smiles to herself – classic Alya. She doesn't do much, only straightening out her clothing and dabbing some concealer underneath her eyes. It's not long before the bundle of liveliness that is Alya barges into Marinette's room, barreling towards her and embracing her with a huge hug.

She's still concerned, and dissatisfied with her earlier interrogation of the nurse. But she can forget about that for a few hours and enjoy some time with Marinette; she's sure the other will appreciate the break from her constant distressing. Besides, she can't recall the last chance they had to hang out outside of the school day. God help her, they were going to enjoy this.

“Here, put this on.” She playfully demands, reaching into her bag and tossing a bundle of red fabric in her best friend's direction.

“What for?”

“Oh, did I forget to tell you?” She says with a wicked grin. “It's a costume party.”

“Really, Alya? You _forgot_ , huh?” Marinette teases, not all that surprised at Alya. (Although she's a little surprised at the theme, leave it to Alix to have a costume party when it's not even close to October! Not that she minds, she loves a good excuse to dress up.) It isn't the first time Alya has done something like this – she figures it must be paypack for last Halloween. Marinette had begged and begged Alya to be the Sailor Mars to her Sailor Moon until she caved, even though she full-well knew that Alya wanted to be Black Widow.

She thinks about how she only felt obligated to go to the party just after she had woken up, but now that Alya is here, she's a lot more excited about it. Maybe it will be fun, maybe she'll be able to feel normal, maybe she'll be able to pretend – even for just a fleeting moment – that there aren't demons lurking in Paris.

(Or maybe the party will be attacked, and she'll have to make her escape and stake a vampire. But she hopes, even prays, that it won't come to that. She likes to think she deserves a violence-free night, and she knows that her peers deserve all of the fun in the world.)

Marinette unfolds the wad of cloth, trying not to laugh as she reads what it says. She quickly takes off her shirt and changes into this one. It fits perfectly. 

“Alyaaaaaaaaa. Why do I have to be Thing 2?” She jokingly whines, holding back her snorts. She looks towards Alya, who's taken off her jacket to reveal a matching Thing 1 shirt. Of _course_ Alya would pick such a silly and easy set of semi-costumes for them. Marinette's grateful that Alya is showing no signs of making them go all-out, with white paint and wigs. She would put her foot down on that, if it came to it.

“Because we both know I'm number one!”

“That you are.” She smiles, leaning into Alya's shoulder.

They fall into their usual patterns so naturally. It's almost enough to make Alya forget about Marinette's recent behavior in school. It's almost enough to make Marinette forget about all her troubles.  
Almost.


End file.
